Second Sunday of Lent:: Fasting? Is it still ‘in’?

Second Sunday of Lent: Fasting? Is it still ‘in’?

What’s the point of it all?

Recently I asked a few people what were they were ‘doing for Lent’; what were they ‘giving up’. Some rattled off the usual Project Compassion, some just looked bewildered as if I had asked something quite odd – particularly the ‘giving up’ bit.

I realised that we don’t seem to talk too much about it these days. Time was when fasting and abstinence during Lent and the traditional ashes of Ash Wednesday were part of a Catholic identity. (I did see some ashen foreheads in the shopping centre on Ash Wednesday.) Things have changed. There is nothing wrong with that, but the responses of my friends got me thinking about the traditional disciplines of Lent, particularly that of fasting.

Before I launch into my reflections, it is important to remember that the word ‘discipline’ is related to ‘disciple’ and really means ‘to listen’.

For many years I could not satisfy myself with any rationale for fasting and voluntarily depriving myself of food. After all, I was not a glutton, I worked hard for God. Metaphorical fasting, yes. Fasting of the harsh, destructive word, fasting by giving of my material goods and wealth to others. It seemed to me, to be more enlightened to actually do something useful, rather than just deprive myself of food. After all, getting the shakes with hunger did not seem very productive and fish on Friday was probably more expensive than eating meat and well, really, not much of a sacrifice anyway.

All in all, there seemed to be no point, really. I also had a sneaking suspicion that the contemporary Church also had an ambiguous attitude to it. Days of fast and abstinence were reduced in the post-Vatican II church; we were encouraged to give to Project Compassion and to do something ‘extra’ rather than fast. All these things are important. However, in reality how often have they dwindled down to tokenism. How many of us have ‘topped up’ the Project Compassion box at the end of Lent because we forgot all about it?

The irony of all this is that we actually live in a society obsessed with fasting, but we call it dieting. Obesity has become the secular sin and we seem to be creating so much ambivalence and guilt around food that anyone with insight should hear warning bells ringing in their minds. Yet self-deprivation, even mild delaying gratification is not encouraged. Very mixed messages.

Fasting and the Scriptures

Fasting has good Biblical credentials. Israel was exhorted to fasting, repentance and acts of justice by the prophets. Jonah was miffed with God because pagan Nineveh repented with fasting, sackcloth and ashes – including the animals. Jesus did it; he recommended it to his disciples if they were to be effective in their ministry.

Biblical fasting is about depriving oneself of food. Real, physical, hold in the hand, chewable, sustaining food. Like all things human it is open for us to experience it as a moment of transcendence or abuse. (We all know of the saints who lived on a lettuce leaf – but that’s for another blog) The prophets were well aware of our human propensities. That is why fasting is always in the context of how we live with each other. Fasting, like all spiritual disciplines must be congruent with charity, compassion, social justice. All disciplines are subject to Love. It must also be undertaken with intentionality rather than as a thing of rote. Throughout the whole of Scripture this is clear.

So, why fast? Why deprive myself of perfectly good food for some intangible reason?

Food is more than food:

Eating is one of our deepest human drives for survival. At its most basic level it is about my individual survival. No food – I die. Stories of people sharing food in dire situations so that others might live, stir and inspire us.

Food, however, has other spiritual and psychological dimensions. The Jewish people understood this – to share food was a sacred trust. Giving food to another is giving life to another. Think of the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath of Sidon (1 Kings 17:7f). Elijah asked her to give him her last bit of food for herself and her son. What an act of trust this woman had? In a drought induced famine, it seems foolhardy, to say the least. This woman, a widow and a gentile understood the power and reverence of giving food to another.

When a society loses this sense of sharing food as self-less survival, of generosity of life and of community, it is culturally poorer in so many ways. It becomes too easy to return to ‘selfish survival’.

Well then, what is the point?

Food, whether we are conscious of it or not, is so much more than physical survival and nourishment.

The rational reasons for or against are important because we are rational people, but we are also people of spirit and heart and fasting, like all things of heart and undertaken in faith, touches the very core of our life with God, our relationship with all God’s creation and our therefore our self-identity.

To return to my ambivalence about physical fasting. Like most of our spiritual disciplines, it has to be actually done in order to be understood fully. We admire and are inspired by the heroic self-giving of people and can only marvel at what such self-giving may take. But sometimes we find the small self-giving moments of love and respect between people of little account, because, from the outside, they don’t seem to take much human effort. However those small self-giving moments happen because of a lifetime of loving self-discipline, a lifetime of learning respect, of learning we belong to each other. Fasting is like that. Whether fasting in small things or grand fasts, it teaches us to step away from our isolated ego to the Self that finds relationship in all things.

Fasting undertaken prayerfully, without fuss, in conscious awareness of the presence of God and all creation, is saying ‘no’ to my individualistic ego survival. It touches that essential human drive to survive and asks, ‘How do I survive?’. Is my survival over against others, at the cost of others or is it with others? To experience this, fasting does not have to be epic. Giving up a small thing – legitimate, enjoyable and rewarding – done with love, respect and generosity of heart, opens us to the same experience.

My fasting this Lent is not life-threatening on the physical level, but each time I put my hand out for the food I have chosen to forego, each time I fantasise about eating it, I am reminded that God has created us in an intimate community with each other. How fortunate am I that I can deprive myself and not face desperate survival as too many of my sisters and brothers face in the world. So, the Project Compassion box gets filled.

Each time I put my hand out for the food I have chosen to forego, I am aware of the mystery of God who has given us to each other and that is terrifying and beautiful. It asks things of me. So, I spend more time praying for those who have asked me and I try to hold back my intolerance.

Each time I put my hand out for the food I have chosen to forego I remember that the ultimate ‘fasting’ is Jesus’ self-giving that came to the cross and ultimately to his Resurrection. His life as promise. So, I am enlivened with hope.

Each time I put my hand out for the food I have chosen to forego I laugh at myself for my fears about allowing God’s commitment to me and all things to change how I ‘survive’, live and use my gifts.

And God laughs back, delighted.